


Game Night

by rosehips



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, board games and bar bathrooms and other fun stuff, implied mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosehips/pseuds/rosehips
Summary: It’s rare that Amanda and her coworkers are all free on the same night, let alone in a good mood, but the stars must have aligned because here they are: at some new bar that Carisi recommended, one with $16 cocktails and a jukebox and a wide selection of board games.Things get competitive, and when a couple key players take a break, Amanda walks in on something she shouldn't.





	Game Night

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic brought to you by delightful, nsfw chats with Alex and Rís.

It’s rare that Amanda and her coworkers are all free on the same night, let alone in a good mood, but the stars must have aligned because here they are: at some new bar that Carisi recommended, one with $16 cocktails and a jukebox and a wide selection of board games. 

After mocking Carisi for ordering one of said overpriced cocktails (“there’s nothing wrong with being a foodie,” he’d complained), they manage to snag a spot around a wide, low gaming table. Amanda claims the most comfortable chair for herself; Carisi sits next to her and across from Barba, who takes a place on the couch. Benson settles in a chair next to Barba’s side of the couch, and Fin relaxes to Amanda’s right at the end of the table. They’re all in good spirits, and the mood only rises as they drink more and the game continues. Amanda can tell that Benson is in an especially good mood because she keeps picking playful little fights with Barba.

Like now: she catches his wrist as he moves to place a tile on the board. “You can’t use Latin words,” she protests. 

Barba quirks an eyebrow. “And how do you know that’s what I was planning? Have you been peeking at my pieces?”

“No,” she says defensively, though Amanda wouldn’t put it above her to have done so. “I’m just warning you not to try it.”

“Tell you what,” Barba smirks. “I’ll stick to legal terms.”

“That’s what you were planning to do anyway!” she complains. “No, you have to stick to _English_. Keep a level playing field.”

“She’s right, those are the rules,” Carisi chimes in. “No Latin unless it’s in an English dictionary.”

Barba shoots him a glare. “I would’ve thought you’d back  _ me _ up on use of legal terms,” he snips. 

“Because lawyers are known to be loyal, right,” smirks Carisi.

Barba throws the tile at him, but Carisi catches it easily. “X,” he reads with a grin. “He was totally going to try to do Latin.”

“Give it back,” Barba demands, putting out his hand palm-up. “I thought of something better.” 

Amanda may be drunk, but she doesn’t miss that he had to shake off Liv’s hand in order to reach his own out; she’d been holding onto his wrist still. Rollins considers elbowing Carisi to point it out, but decides to wait.

“I don’t think you should be allowed to play at all if you’re gonna go around throwing things at people,” she says instead.

Barba rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

“What was that?” Amanda asks, dangerously honey-voiced. 

“He said you ‘sound like such a mom,’” Benson supplies, giving Barba the kind of stink-eye that would make Amanda cringe.

“Oh, shit,” Fin laughs.

Barba ignores this haughtily, and instead gestures impatiently towards Carisi. “Tile, please,” he says, making the  _ please _ sound impolite.

“Nuh-uh,” Carisi grins, “I think you earned yourself time out for this round.”

“ _ Time out, _ ” Barba mouths, rolling his eyes, but he drops his hand. “Fine. It’s not like any of you will be able to catch up with me anyway.”

Looking down at the pad where she’s keeping score, Amanda figures he’s right. But she’s not about to say so.

“Tell you what, Barba,” Fin says as Carisi bends over the board to plan his move. “You can win back your turn by buying us all a round.”

“You’re not even playing!” Carisi says. “You don’t get to make deals and take away my turn!”

“No, it’s  _ my  _ turn,” Barba insists. “Here.” He passes Fin his credit card. “Order whatever you want. Scotch for me. Carisi, give me the tile.”

“No.”

“Y’all sound an awful lot like children,” Amanda says dryly as Fin, rolling his eyes, gets up to go to the bar.

“She’s right,” Benson agrees. “But I want another glass, so I’m ruling in Rafael’s favor.”

“Oh, you’re a judge now?” Barba smirks, leaning closer to her. “You’re sure you can’t accept legal terms in Latin, Your Honor?”

“Don’t make me hold you in contempt, counselor,” she shoots back with a smile.

Amanda nudges Carisi, who widens his eyes significantly in agreement: they’re  _ totally _ flirting. 

“That’s alright,” Barba says airly. “Like I said, I thought of something better.” Carisi hands him the tile, and he arranges it on the board with seven others, spelling out QUIXOTIC.

“Oh, come on!” Benson exclaims, and Barba laughs out loud with something that sounds suspiciously like genuine delight.

“There’s more where that came from,” he says as he collects fresh tiles.

“Ugh,” Benson says. “You’re insufferable.”

He preens.

“A little help over here?” Fin calls from the bar.

Carisi and Amanda scramble to assist in carrying the drinks over. By the time they turn back to the couches and the game table, Benson has moved to sit next to Barba on the couch, and — “oh my god,” Amanda hisses, throwing out her free hand to stop the other two detectives, “she’s got her  _ hand  _ on his  _ thigh. _ ”

She does. Well, closer to the knee than the thigh, but still too high up to be considered only friendly, and certainly not close to the region of professional. And then there’s the way they’re  _ looking _ at each other. Benson looks like she could eat him alive; Barba looks like he’d thoroughly enjoy it.

“Do me a favor and break that up before I get over there so I don’t have to see it up close,” Fin requests. 

Carisi ignores him, opting to lean in closer. “Do you think they’re sleeping together yet?” he asks speculatively. “My theory is —”

“You two better keep me out of your theories,” Fin interrupts. “And Amanda,” he adds pointing at her as best he can with a beer in one hand and a scotch in the other, “tell me you two don’t have a bet going over this.”

“We don’t, we don’t,” she reassures him. “No gambling.”

“Anyway,” Carisi says, “my theory is they  _ haven’t _ started yet, because when I interrupted his paperwork the other day he nearly bit my head off, and if he was getting laid —”

“I’m not hearing this,” Fin says.

“If he was getting laid,” Carisi soldiers on, “he wouldn’t be so uptight.”

“Well let’s hope they start soon, then,” Amanda jokes. “Maybe he wouldn’t bitch about getting us warrants as much either.”

“Hang on, he’s usually right about those,” Carisi protests as they all start to walk over. “You know about probable cause, right? And how it’s required before a search or arrest?”

Amanda rolls her eyes. “Don’t go all lawyer on me now.” She sets Benson’s Cabernet down in front of her. “But I think your theory is right,” she adds to Carisi.

“What theory?” Benson asks. She picks up the wine with the hand that had been on Barba’s leg a moment ago; Amanda notes they’re not sitting quite so close to each other now, either. Barba even scoots further away to take his credit card back from Fin. 

It’s cute how they think they’re hiding it.

“Nothing,” Amanda smiles sweetly, ignoring the identical looks of suspicion on their faces. “Whose turn is it?”

Three rounds later, the board is as covered as it’s going to get and Barba has decisively trounced all of them with MAUVE, ZIPS, and PILFER.

“Well,” Amanda sighs, tossing down the notepad, “we tried.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, counselor,” Carisi advises.

“Too late,” Benson says, and Barba’s smirk somehow becomes even more smug.

“Maybe I’ll get a thesaurus for the squad room,” he says magnanimously. “Just so I can have some real competition next time.”

“Keep up that tone and there won’t be a next time,” Benson warns him. Fin laughs.

Barba only rolls his eyes, then stands and stretches. “I’ll excuse myself so you can lick your wounds,” he says, and heads to the bathroom. This time Rollins doesn’t have to elbow Carisi; neither of them misses the way that Benson checks out Barba’s ass as he walks away.

Fin clears his throat, and Benson snaps her head back to him. “I’m gonna head out,” he announces, draining his beer. “See you all tomorrow.”

“Give my love to Munch,” Benson says. “Actually, you should bring him next time. He’d give Rafael a run for his money.”

“I just don’t wanna be in the room when they start arguing,” Fin replies dryly, and she laughs. “Have a good night.”

Amanda waves goodbye, then settles back into her chair. “I’ve got the sitter with Jesse for another hour,” she says. “I want to pick out a game we can beat Barba at.”

“You’re good at cards,” Carisi teases. “What about poker? Or is that too close to gambling?”

This starts up some good-natured bickering, and neither of them really notices when Benson excuses herself to go to the bathroom. By the time they settle on “Clue” as their best chance to kick Barba’s ass, Amanda has to go too.

“Watch our drinks,” she tells Carisi, getting up. “And don't be afraid to use your badge if someone tries to steal my chair.”

The bathrooms are tucked in a back hallway, and there’s a line out the door for the women’s room. Of course. Amanda bites back a groan — she hadn’t realized until standing up that this was, well,  _ time-sensitive _ . After debating for a moment, she turns and heads the other way. Maybe the men’s room will be empty.

She’s about to turn the corner to the other hall when she notices another door. A small label says it’s a single-stall restroom — the other women must have missed it, she figures, because it’s in the opposite direction. She knocks on the door, but the din of the bar makes it impossible to hear if anyone responds. With a shrug Amanda tries the knob; it catches, but turns when she jostles it. 

“—so hot and tight, I can’t wait to get you home so you can—”

Amanda  _ shrieks,  _ claps a hand over her eyes and jumps back into the hall.  _ Oh my god. Oh my god,  _ she thinks, and then she’s laughing out loud. So much for Carisi’s theory. She’s gonna enjoy rubbing it in his face that he was wrong, but at the same time she really,  _ really  _ wishes she hadn’t just seen what she’d seen: Barba, talking dirty and backed up against the wall of a bar bathroom, one hand down  _ Amanda’s boss’s pants,  _ the other pinned to his side by that same boss, who also had a hand — she’d had a hand at his  _ throat,  _ and another wave of laughter hits Amanda, because who knew that  _ Barba  _ of all people would be into  _ that _ ? 

Actually, she muses as she practically sprints down the hall, it does make sense now that she’s thinking about it. Not least because it’s unsurprising that  _ Benson  _ would be into that, and now she  _ really  _ needs to stop thinking about that because the images in her head are nothing she wants to see.

She is gonna enjoy telling Carisi he’s wrong, though. Almost as much as she’ll enjoy watching Benson and Barba squirm when they come back to the table and pretend they don’t know it was her who walked in on them.

Amanda is generous enough. She’ll let them keep up that little fiction. But suddenly she doesn’t feel the need to beat Barba at a board game anymore. No: holding this over his head will be  _ so  _ much more fun.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what it is about smut and smut-adjacent writing, but exploring the genre (if that counts as a genre) has allowed me to think about and write SVU fic without unbearable canon-caused pain! Which is more than I can say for when I try to write normal SVU fic. So it may be this type of thing for a while until I recover from canon.


End file.
